


A Different Kind of Magic

by Phisobi



Category: Wradsworld
Genre: F/M, Gender Dysphoria, Other, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, YOOOOO, also zeke is trans, feedback is loved, hope u like it, magic and witches n shit, sorta - Freeform, theres some internalized dysphoria here, this is a story im writing about my own ocs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-18 23:22:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9407426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phisobi/pseuds/Phisobi
Summary: Zeke is a secretive archer from the metropolis Freyes, and not too proud of his past. Once he learns put it all behind him, he won't see it sneaking up on him to get its revenge. While in a great debt to a witch of the forest, Zeke fights to find out just who put the price on his head, discovering a whole other world of chaos hidden in plain sight.





	1. The Tired, The Cold, and The Dead

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyooo! This is my first work I've posted here. let me know what u think / if I hecked something up. I'll be writing more chapters, obv. my tumblr is @phisobi!
> 
> Side note: I've just put this under the fandom "Wradsworld" because this isn't really a work for any existing fandom, so thats what I'm calling mine lmao.
> 
> Edit: Let it also be noted that I don't know why the spacing is weird between the paragraphs. I write the work itself in google docs, and paste it here. Sorry it's inconsistent.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse into the life of the archer from Freyes.

Zeke groaned and rolled over, woken by the feeling of his cat’s sandpaper tongue across his cheek. Nayla had a tendency to wake him up like this when she hadn’t been fed in the mornings. Light filtered through the small window near the ceiling, showing that midday had passed; Tonight was another escort mission, and Zeke was catching up on sleep in order to prepare for the long night. He didn’t know why the carriage was scheduled to go out after dark, and he didn’t ask. As long as he did his job successfully and got paid for it, he was happy.

Sitting up with a small yawn, Zeke stretched his arms into the air. It was cold in his house, the fire long burnt out. He ached to lay back down and roll back up in his hide blankets, but he knew Nayla would just keep bothering him. The stone floor was like ice against his bare feet as Zeke made his way towards the fireplace, determined to warm the place a little before getting to the daily chores. Nayla rubbed against his leg, starved for attention, and Zeke gave a little smile as he scratched behind her ear. Although he didn’t have many friends, his furry companion was a suitable substitute.

Before long, the heat from the fireplace had reached across the house, the stone walls locking it inside. Fresh snow had covered the ground, visibly untouched by footprints in all directions. Zeke rubbed his eyes at the brightness and blinked away the sleepiness, suddenly aware of the hunger pains that rippled through his midsection. He sighed, pushing the pot of soup from last night’s dinner back over the fire to heat it up. An extra stash of small food scraps was kept in a bowl for Nayla, which he pulled out of the cupboards along with a small saucer of milk from the market.

On the wall hung his bow and quiver full of arrows. The beauty of their strength and fine craftsmanship was in stark contrast to that of the wall behind it; The tapestries that hung around his house weren’t enough to mask the long cracks in the rough stone walls. Zeke sat down and began to eat, idly admiring the tool. He thought back to his training days, only a few months back, hearing his commander’s voice echo through his head. “This is not a weapon,” He had said, “But a tool. _You_ are the weapon.” Zeke stuck to that rule like it was his own, never counting on his bow to do more than it’s intended purpose, teaching himself to be the real danger.

As the sun set lower into the horizon, Zeke finished his errands. Supplies were stocked for the trip, Nayla had enough to eat for the next two days, and his gear was all in place. It was going to be a long and cold night, making him not want to go, but it was his job and the escort had to be done. Trading between the nearest city was crucial; A harsh sickness had spread throughout the lower half of Freyes, the bustling metropolis of Hadvarl, making all who caught it bedridden. Trades for medicine were established in exchange for tools, weaponry and metals.

The fresh snow and cold winds nearly toppled Zeke as he made his trek to the rendezvous point. He hated taking trips to the city centre from home. Winter this year has been anything but forgiving, but the people of Freyes had learned to adapt and survive. The land was coarse and dry, and didn’t support much plant life. Only the toughest were able to keep themselves on the ground.

As he approached the centre of the city, Zeke’s grip on his bow tightened. Dull, rundown houses slowly faded together, pressed against rows of streets. It was strange to see them so quiet at night, so void of life. Walking past the now empty marketplace, a soft  sigh escaped his parted lips. The convoy wasn’t very far, yet the archer couldn’t help but feel out of place. The eerie silence draped around him like a wet blanket, broken by nothing but the heavy crunch of the snow beneath his feet.

The people here were always wary of him, but with good enough reason. Zeke would admit that he’s done some questionably immoral jobs in the past and often fought with authorities, but he’d do whatever helped put food on the table. He didn’t speak much, and kept his distance from anyone he wasn’t fond of, which was a good portion of the city. The scarf he had around his lower face was enough to mask who he was, but that didn’t stop people from closing their shutters as he walked past the houses. They trusted him as much a rabbit would trust a hungry wolf.

* * *

 

Confusion struck the archer as he entered the gates and headed towards the carriage. Where there were usually twelve to fifteen men there stood only seven. Zeke’s pace slowed as his brow furrowed, but he picked it back up to approach the commander of the convoy.

“Where are the other men?” He inquired.

“There are no other men.” The commander’s voice was gruff but firm. “You eight are well enough on your own to deliver this month’s supplies.”

Zeke held up a finger to argue, but bit his tongue. He knew better than to go against the word of his boss, lest he lose his first well-paying job.

“Got a problem with that, rookie?” Came the mocking tone of another member on the escort team. Zeke rolled his eyes, not giving a reaction as a few other men sneered.

While he knew it was best to not get distracted on or before a job, Zeke couldn’t help but wonder why they had cut back on men. Sure, they had a few good fighters and two scouts, but what defense would they have were they to get ambushed along the path? It wasn’t guarded like the main roads; out here everything is fair game. The fearful thoughts used to bother him, but after a few journeys back and forth of nothing happening most of the tension went away.

With a heavy sigh, Zeke slid his quiver onto his back and made sure his bow was ready for combat should an event arise. He watched as the rest of the men readied themselves; They were in much heavier, warmer gear than the archer was, but such things would just hinder his mobility as a scout. His job was to scale the trees in search of the lighted towers in the distance that mark the way to the nearest city if the path was lost in the darkness, and make sure there was no danger ahead. He stared as one of them lifted a sword and sheathed it by their side, knowing he could never climb with that strapped to him.

The commander had left them with nothing but a wave to signal their departure. Zeke moved to his position and followed in line with the horses, both mentally and physically preparing himself for the long trip ahead.

Soon they were out of the city, entering the great forest beyond the walls. No matter how many times he’s gone in and out of here, Zeke has always found it so beautiful and serene. It was a quiet place, the snow glistening softly under the moon’s light as it rose higher into the dark sky. The troop’s vision was limited by the trees as they travelled on, but the path was still visible for at least a little while longer.

Lit candles hung in the cages from the edges of the carriage, giving off a faint glow. It was quiet, like it always was, but somehow it was starting to get to the archer. He had drowned out the sound of the horses pulling the rattling carriage and his team’s heavy footfalls, suddenly aware of how loud his heart beat in his chest. The silence was eerie and draped around the troop like a wet blanket, setting Zeke’s nerves on edge. He shook the feelings off, figuring he was just being paranoid, and continued on the trail.

The group had been travelling for over an hour and a half before they finally slowed to a halt. The path had begun to fade into the heavy fog that fell around their team for a while now, and the horses were getting uneasy. They hadn’t even reached the marked tree for Zeke to climb in order to see the closest tower, so he ventured a little off course to find something tall enough to make do. He sighed to himself as he began to climb, his legs already sore from the walk through the snow, squinting to see which branch to grab next.

Once at the top, Zeke exhaled deeply, catching his breath. The bindings on his chest hindered his breathing at times, but it was bearable. He stared into the distance, still as ever, peering through the darkness to see the faint flicker of the nearest tower. They lined the main path through the forest between both cities so caravans, nomads and traders wouldn’t get lost.

But, as he looked around, the light was nowhere to be seen. The archer began to wonder if the fog and snow were too heavy, an uncomfortable twist growing in his stomach. The thoughts that they might have taken a wrong turn had begun to settle in, not helping his gut feeling. It was possible, considering they had never ventured out here in the dark, yet still unlikely.

  
Swallowing hard, Zeke began to climb down the tree to inform their group leader of the situation. Something rustled in the bushes below him and he came to an abrupt stop, staring at the leaves as they rustled, the freshly fallen snow sliding off of them and disappearing into the wind. Whatever it was didn’t seem to be very big, but it served as a good enough distraction. He steadied himself on one of the tree’s  thicker limbs, just as the first arrow was shot. A piercing pain rippled through his shoulder and Zeke let out a cry, hearing it echo into the night as he fell from his perch.


	2. What Lurks in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laughter erupted in his ears, howling in amusement. It was loud, more so than the beat of his own heart. Immediately Zeke recognized it as his troop’s laughter, and he felt his stomach drop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hihi, this chapter was posted without being proofread and I'm very tired while writing it so there might be a few changes.  
> And no, I don't get tired of leaving people on cliffhangers :^)  
> (Also, drawn references for the Rovn will be provided soon!)

If there was ever a right time to be admitting faults, it was now. How foolish he had been to be distracted so easily while the convoy sat idle, waiting for his word. Night was the perfect time to strike an ambush, and Zeke internally chastised himself for not being more alert. Stealth was his expertise, but here he was, beaten at his own game.

Zeke cursed under his breath as he fell ungracefully from branch to branch. Finally he finally landed, hitting his head on one of the base limbs.

Panic and adrenaline surged through every muscle in his body. Many years were spent perfecting his fighting, enduring the pain and getting the pay for his dirty work, but in all his twenty three years of life Zeke has never been this afraid of being caught. He hit the ground with a thud, grunting as he pushed himself onto his hands and knees.

Zeke sood and steadied himself against the base of the tree, looking around for his attacker. His vision swam and he was winded by the fall, but he knew he wasn’t hearing things. Laughter erupted in his ears, howling in amusement. It was loud, more so than the beat of his own heart. Immediately he recognized it as his troop’s laughter, and his stomach dropped even further.

How long he stood there, Zeke couldn’t say. He stared as they pointed and laughed, until it hit him. The late hour, the few men, no path towers in sight, it wasn’t hard to put it all together. This wasn’t an actual mission. This was betrayal. His instincts kicked in; It was fight or flight, and he knew that taking on seven other men would be impossible, especially considering his condition. Hissing in pain, he turned away and began to run off the path and into the forest. Actions overcame thought, and logic was pushed aside as he ran. He had no idea where he was going, only needing to get as far away from the others as possible. 

The fog grew heavier around him as he pushed onwards, stumbling over every stray branch. His body was heavily protesting every move he made, his muscles screaming in agony. Shock pushed away the pain in his shoulder, but that didn’t last long. Another shot fired into the night, the arrow whistling in the wind until it struck, digging into his side. He let out a shrill cry of pain, collapsing forward into the snow.

Everything hurt, and Zeke wanted nothing more than to be home with Nayla in his lap and a fire by his side. He could feel something worming under his skin, a grogginess spreading over him, but was quickly distracted by the approaching footsteps. The archer turned his head in their direction, baring his teeth in pain and anger at his former teammates. He could hear shouting from the carriage, cheering him to run as if it was some sick game   
  


“Got you now.” A voice chuckled behind a twisted, toothy grin.

“Finally,” Another one of his pursuers sighed, “I was gettin’ impatient.” 

Zeke curled in on himself, seeing blood stain the snow. He stared up at the others.

“What the hell is this,” his breathy words came out as a puff of smoke against the cool night air. His question was only met with dry laughter. 

The three that had chased him down turned to each other, one of them keeping an eye on Zeke as he lay there.

“You sure that’ll do the job?” The tallest one spoke first. Zeke's head throbbed, and he couldn't focus enough to tell who was talking.

“They’re poisoned.” The other assured. “It ain't very potent, but 'was best I could scrounge on yer short notice. He'll be unconscious within the hour, dead by the sunrise.”

Zeke almost went pale with fear, but couldn’t find the strength in him to say much more than a few pained grunts.

“What about the body? Didn't it say we need'a bring 'im back dead for the reward?” The two continued on their conversation, hardly glancing over.

A short, humourless laugh echoed between the trees. “Yeah, somethin’ like that. We could kick ‘im a bit to speed up the process.”

The men turned towards the archer on the ground with wicked smiles. Under the faint moonlight, they looked nothing nicer than demons. Zeke’s eyes closed, his breathing coming in ragged gasps between his choked sobs. This was his death, and it was worse than he had imagined it to be.

Loud yelling erupted in the near distance, and all heads swiveled to it’s source.

“Tork, the others!” The one closest to Zeke nearly shouted. With a grimace, Tork, the biggest of their team, turned away from Zeke and ran back to the carriage.

“Leave him.” He hissed, as if able to sense his comrade’s hesitation. “We will come back later.”

While it had been their intention to steer clear of the main path through the Hollow woods, it wasn’t easy to tell when entering Rovn territory at night. Their low growling was quick to turn to aggression as the beasts lept into the clearing from the forest. The largest one bared it’s teeth at Tork as he approached, sword unsheathed. All four of it’s eyes glowed a soft yellow. They had been waiting for a night like this.

The men had been dwindling in numbers by the minute. More and more Rovn poured from the shadows, gnawing at whatever flesh they could grab hold of. More shrieks filled the night as the remaining four men fled on foot. One of the creatures had attacked one of the horses, making them both run wild. The Rovn chased the men to the edge of their claim, returning only to eat the few they had killed.

Zeke groaned and tried to push himself onto his hands and knees. If he could manage to crawl, he might hold out a little longer. Through the searing pain he managed to move a few feet before collapsing into the snow once more. All hope of fighting the numb feeling that washed over him had vanished. As his vision blurred into one solid colour, Zeke let himself slip away. Before long, he lay there unconscious in the snow, at mercy to whatever found him next.


End file.
